


Memorandum

by poquito (manta)



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: M/M, and one mention of sex, besides that whatever, dmmd - Freeform, insert witty tags here, kouao - Freeform, one cuss word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 19:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2163129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manta/pseuds/poquito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Koujaku and Aoba are reminded of how much they mean to the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memorandum

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Koujaku’s birthday and the KouAo episode this week.

Aoba’s eyes snapped open in the darkness. Reaching for the left bedside table, he lifted his Coil to his bleary eyes and inwardly groaned. 

3:22 A.M. 

He would have loved nothing more than to sink his head back onto Koujaku’s arm, fall asleep to quiet breaths warming his ear and Koujaku’s arm draped heavily over his side. But Aoba’s body demanded the restroom, and reluctantly he untangled himself, yawning as he padded away from the bed. 

He washed his hands after using the toilet, peering at himself in the large mirror above the sink. Dressed only in his boxers, the night was warm enough he needed little else. He couldn’t help a wry smile at his rat’s nest of a head, the result of asking- no, begging- Koujaku to fuck him incoherent the night before, and he reached up with both hands to fix the wayward strands. 

And then, a memory: standing in Glitter’s outdated hallway, curiosity getting the better of him and pushing the bathroom door slightly more ajar, to find his childhood friend retying his hair in the mirror and the source of the foreign colours being the flowers that bloomed over Koujaku’s back. They were mesmerizingly beautiful but the colours were almost too vivid, like each festering petal was inflamed. 

Aoba wasn’t completely awake before, but he certainly was now.

He recalled the initial shock giving way to dismay, sadness, even anger as he turned away from the door. Those bold markings, permanent shadows on Koujaku’s skin- they made him someone else entirely. Who was this stranger? Certainly not the best friend Aoba had grown up with, who protected Aoba from harm and never left him wanting for anything. Because what good was a hero if he couldn’t even protect himself?

But Aoba had seen his own fear mirrored elsewhere, and pondered just where it had occurred. He couldn’t recall at all, and then the answer came to him in a jolt: back when they were only starting to truly understand one another, and Koujaku found out Aoba knew all along about the tattoos, mentioning nothing of them until then. 

“I see… Whatever,” Koujaku had said in response. But those red eyes had widened, watched him bleakly for a moment, and then slid away, coming to a conclusion Aoba didn’t understand. Back then, Aoba thought Koujaku was annoyed for the invasion of privacy, that he’d rather Aoba hadn’t found out the way he did, but it was more than that: Koujaku had been just as afraid of him. 

And afraid of what? Perhaps of being judged, being hated. Most of all, he feared the same thing Aoba did: of the distance between them becoming insurmountable.

Water continued gushing from the tap but Aoba hardly noticed, his eyes on his reflection and his mind entirely elsewhere.

They had years of experience to merge, yet managed to bridge their steepest differences at the Oval Tower. 

Koujaku didn’t have the powers Aoba did, but he supported Aoba in ways Scrap couldn’t, held him together, even when Aoba himself didn’t know he needed support. Even if Aoba managed to use Scrap for good, it allowed Aoba to save others but at the expense of his own consciousness, pushing others to the surface while driving him deeper into the water, until he drowned from the pressure of his own mind. Aoba was ready to resign himself to his fate, succumb to the voice that whispered DESTROY, DESTROY in a steady cadence, to his heart’s every beat.

But Koujaku gave him a reason to keep going. Not only because Scrap’s power saved Koujaku, but witnessing Koujaku battle his darkest and most shameful corners motivated Aoba in his own struggles. Because if he rose above the pain, he would meet Koujaku in his entirety- with all of his physical and emotional scars, and in his silliness, his sadness, his thoughtfulness, his kindness, his tenderness. 

Koujaku was here because of him. But the opposite rang true as well, and Aoba felt a renewed rush of affection for the man who he could call his lover in addition to his closest friend.

An owl hooted through the open window, and Aoba started. His hair was still a mess, but smoothing it down suddenly felt unnecessary. He turned the tap off and dried his hands, using a yellow towel he’d insisted on because it matched his socks, and returned to the bedroom. 

Koujaku had rolled over in his absence, taking Aoba’s empty spot on the bed. The mattress creaked when Aoba kneeled onto it and he settled where the taller man had been minutes before, the residual warmth heating his side as he tossed a leg carelessly over Koujaku’s hip. He was about to press his face against the broad back and fall asleep again when Koujaku twitched and shrank into himself, shivering and his teeth chattering despite the warm night.

Aoba was long used to these nightmares, the thunder in Koujaku’s mind that had quieted since its peak at Platinum Jail but would never completely cease. He leaned over to trace down Koujaku’s arm, fumbling until his fingers found the large palm, and gently kissed Koujaku’s neck, right where his pulse rapidly thudded. 

It took a moment, but the movements stilled and Koujaku’s deep voice broke the silence.

“…Aoba? Is something wrong?”

“I was worried,” Aoba murmured, dragging his mouth upwards to Koujaku’s jaw, and then briefly to his lips to ensure he was awake. “You were reliving the past again.”

“So I was. I can feel the cold sweat on my forehead,” Koujaku said with a dry chuckle, but his fingers tightened around Aoba’s, and Aoba felt his back rumbling as he spoke.

“Want to talk about it?” He reached for Koujaku’s brow, pushed his sticky fringe away from his face, the tattoo below his eye thrown into stark relief. “I told you, I’m here if you need to.”

“I’d rather talk about how cute you are,” Koujaku countered, turning to face Aoba, his shit-eating grin at full wattage and arms reaching.

“You say the most embarrassing things,” Aoba said crossly, but allowed himself to be scooped into Koujaku’s embrace.

“You took a while in the bathroom.”

“You noticed?”

“I had the feeling like I misplaced something,” Koujaku admitted.

Aoba pushed his hands away. “I’m not just a toy you lose somewhere!”

“Not like that. Like a part of me was missing.” Koujaku gently tugged at Aoba, coaxing him, and rubbed small circles along his back. “Relax.”

Aoba huffed, but he remembered his musings and decided to tell the truth, his voice soft. “Actually, I was thinking about you.”

Koujaku instantly brightened at that. “Do tell! Were you thinking about my charm? My manly figure? My rugged good looks?”

Never mind. “I was thinking about what a nose bleeding hippo you are. Hippo.”

Though Koujaku stiffened slightly, he merely sighed with mock offense. “You can be so mean, you know that?”

“You started it,” Aoba replied. But he kissed Koujaku’s arm, right at the shoulder where the bold black lines began. “You’re fun to mess with.”

“Aobaaaaaa.” Aoba sensed, rather than saw, Koujaku’s bottom lip curl into a pout. “I’m the one who had the nightmare, and my own boyfriend’s being cruel to me!”

“Fine, fine.” He moved forward to fit under Koujaku’s chin and reached his arms around, entwining his fingers with Koujaku’s layered black hair. “Does this satisfy your standards, Your Royal Highness?”

“It’s perfect,” Koujaku answered happily, leaning down to lessen the strain on his lover’s arms. “You’re perfect,” he added almost by instinct, burying his face into Aoba’s hair and making him flush.

For all of Aoba’s grumbling, it was difficult not to feel deep contentment when they were like this- holding one another in the dark, the sliding doors open to invite in the breeze, their Allmates asleep on the plush cushion Koujaku bought as Ren’s moving in present. They lay in silence for a long time, Aoba marvelling at how smoothly Koujaku’s dark strands passed through his fingers and listening to his breath steadily shift from frenzied and erratic to quiet and steady. 

“Aoba.” Koujaku’s voice was sleepy now, and slightly muffled. “Thank you.” It was for the comfort, but also for much more; his arms held Aoba tighter, burrowing closer, and Aoba felt what little nerve endings he had left in his hair stir as Koujaku tenderly kissed the strands.

“I love you.” 

“M-me too.” To Aoba’s annoyance, he felt heat in his cheeks and his head fog over. He never understood how Koujaku said the words so easily and so often, with so much conviction, when he could barely muster the ability to stutter a reply.

“With all my heart.” Koujaku’s voice dropped to a faint murmur, his breath warm.

“I know,” Aoba muttered, embarrassed but pleased. He reached for one of Koujaku’s hands, which were curled protectively around his waist, and pressed the scarred knuckles to his lips. 

They would discuss Koujaku’s dream in the morning, over doughnuts at Tae’s. But first, they would rest in this corner of the world they had set aside for themselves, together.

“Koujaku?”

“Aoba…?” The taller man was barely audible, lingering on the vestiges of consciousness.

Aoba took the long, deft fingers and placed them against his own chest, where his once-withered heart beat warm, and strong, and full.

“You saved me too. Don’t forget.”

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic! *tosses confetti*


End file.
